Arashi's Training
by Venarti
Summary: A disadvantaged shinigami with a Kendo master he hates - can Arashi Kuroda overcome the challenge before him? Totally AU - originally a Gaiden piece for a story that I decided not to bother writing.


The falling blow whistled through his guard, smacking him in the neck. He tumbled to the side, crying out softly with the pain. The impact had been nullified a little by his protective kit, but it still stung horribly. His own blade fell from his nerveless fingers as he pitched onto the floor. It was all Arashi could do not to vomit into his helmet.

"On your feet, Kuroda." The harsh snap of his kendo master's voice lashed him like a whip, and Arashi felt a sickeningly cold reishi settle over him. He pushed himself to his feet, fighting his rebellious stomach and his master's reishi for every inch of height.

His opponent, a towering mass of muscle with teeth like a mule and a smell to match, grinned grotesquely at him. He held his sword almost negligently in one hand, and Arashi couldn't help but notice that the wooden blade was broken, lose.

"Kuroda. Stand up straight, and hold your sword properly." Another lash of the voice, accompanied by another wave of reishi that threatened to cramp Arashi's muscles as it hit him. This was the Kendo master's speciality – directing his ice-cold reishi into someone else's aura, disrupting it horribly. Arashi's sword point dipped slightly as he relaxed his grip for a fraction of a second, trying to let his own reishi reassert itself.

Raba, still grinning stupidly, took full advantage, brutally beating Arashi's guard down and barrelling into him. In a little under two seconds, Arashi was pinned under a mass of flesh that stank of sweat, a sword poking into the small of his back. His helmet, stuck on the floor, dug into the back of his neck and his greaves – unusual for a kendo practitioner – were biting into the top of his legs.

"Kuroda." The grating tone returned. As Arashi struggled and squirmed beneath Raba's bulk, he caught a glimpse of sandaled feet near his head. In a moment of clarity, he heard the dojo go quiet, other sparring pairs stopping training and turning to watch the show.

A sudden blow to the side of the head dazed him enough that Arashi lay still. "When I address you, you stand to attention, boy." Once again, there was a pulse of ice-cold reishi that flooded Arashi's system. "There is no-one who is going to help you now, boy. On your feet!"

Arashi almost screamed. With Raba sat on him, he could barely move at all with his muscles locked by freezing reishi. His flailing hand caught hold of his sword, and he whipped it across his back. Raba, focused on pushing his own sword into Arashi's back, didn't see it coming. He stumbled away, cursing, as Arashi struggled to his feet.

No sooner was he back in a ready stance again then Arashi was struck from behind. Ears ringing, he spun around in time to see his master point a wooden training sword at Arashi's face, at eye level. "I was talking to you, Kuroda. How disrespectful." He pulled at his short beard, and smiled in a way that never met his eyes. "As punishment, you will clean the dojo yourself tonight."

Arashi's jaw dropped. The dojo was huge, and normally all two hundred students helped clean up at the end of the day. To do it himself would probably mean missing dinner. Before he could protest, however, the master spun away from him. "Class, DISMISSED!"

-:-

Arashi pushed a piece of sushi around with his chopstick. The food was good – the best in the Soul Society, probably – but he didn't feel hungry. The bruises on his neck and back ached badly, and his muscles were still slow to respond after his kendo master had reishi-flooded him.

Across the room, the lean figure of Haruto Tasogare, Ashari's mentor – his real master, to his mind – looked around from his washing up. "Feeling better, Arashi?"

"A little, Sensei." Arashi wanted desperately to complain, but he didn't. That wouldn't get anything done – he'd already related everything that had happened at training, after all. "The sushi is helping, actually."

His mentor smiled, blowing a stray lock of blond hair away from his eyes. "And so it should – it's spiced with some rather rare stuff."

Arashi nodded, still glum. He could taste the spices – he'd helped grow some of them. They weren't helping his mood, though they renewed and refreshed his muscles. He picked up another piece of sushi, forcing himself to eat it. His hands shook a little as he ate.

It was with a sigh that his mentor sat opposite him. His own bowl of food was long since finished, so he nursed a cup of strong, sweet tea instead. Arashi glanced at it for a moment before another cup was set before him. He took it gratefully, and drank deeply.

The wash of warmth swept through him, brushing aside the coldness in his lean frame. Arashi took one deep, long breath, letting the feeling of heat cleanse him. It was only an illusion, of course – his emotions and his reishiological problems remained – but it felt luxurious.

"Thanks, Sensei. I'll be along to bed now, I think." So saying, he took himself off to his room. It was small, sparse, and totally unadorned, but it was his. His shinai was already stored in the sword rack, and his hung his training kit and clothes in the wardrobe before climbing wearily into bed. Hopefully, he could get a good night's sleep for once. Bad dreams had plagued him, lately.

-:-

The storm clouds were even thicker, this time. The wind howled, screaming and cold, as Arashi huddled in the lee of a stone outcropping. The island was one he was familiar with – he'd seen it twice or more a week for nearly a year. Each time, the weather got worse. Not that Arashi minded storms. On the country, he quite enjoyed them – when he was inside, safe and warm. Now, dressed only in his nightclothes in a howling wind, he hated them. If they followed the pattern of the previous dreams, right about now-

On cue, a flash of light heralded sheets upon sheet of rain, falling like the hammer of the storm. Arashi hunched down further in his barely sheltered alcove. In seconds, rainwater was soaking through his short blond hair, sticking it to the sides of his head. It ran in rivulets down his back, soaking into his boxers and creeping around to his chest and stomach. He shivered.

Normally, these dreams lasted all night – though the time on the island wasn't normally over an hour. Tonight, however, the storm kept on and on. Arashi was beginning to despair of the rain ever ending when a bolt of lightning ripped across the sky, unaccompanied by any sound, and he was propelled into wakefulness.

Blinking, Arashi sat up. His futon was soaked with sweat, and he pushed the blanket away in disgust. His room had just one fairly large window, and through it Arashi could see the clear night sky. Judging by the brightness of the stars, he guessed it must be around midnight.

He sat back, grunting in discomfort. His sweat was rapidly chilling him off, and he wrapped his arms around himself, much like he had done in his dream.

He lay like that for some time, thinking. _Why these dreams? They're so strange. _Inevitably, his thought turned to his Kendo lessons. _Why does master Ryu pick on me? _His thought sounded childish, even to him – he knew exactly why. He was the only student from the Rukongai at this level. Most classes weren't nearly as bad – his scholarly studies were both more interesting, and taught by more sympathetic masters. The students were just as discriminatory, but of the 'apathetic' type, rather than the 'beat him senseless every lesson' variety. It didn't help that he looked several years younger than his classmates, too.

Eventually, he managed to fall into a dreamless, if fitful, sleep that lasted until morning. When he awoke again, sunlight was streaming through the window and there was a steaming bowl of soup on his table. He almost closed his eyes again – he had another Kendo session this morning – but he forced himself up. If he wanted to be in the Gotei Thirteen, then he was going to have to put up with worse than abusive Kendo masters. That, and the sunlight was lighting up the room and making it impossible to sleep.

After showering and dressing, Arashi found himself ravenously hungry, and practically fell into the soup. Warm and nourishing, it went some way to raising his spirits until he felt happy enough to take his shinai from its resting place and make his way to the training hall.

-:-

Arashi managed to get a position on the very end of the two hundred student line. He held his helmet tightly, standing to attention along with everyone else. Master Ryu was walking up and down the front of the dojo, looking uncharacteristically happy. For Arashi, that almost never boded well.

"This session, we will be focusing on group combat." Ryu's voice rang out into the quiet hall. "A chance to test your skills in a more realistic combat situation." Arashi gulped.

It seemed he was right to be worried. "Everyone, turn to your right. Kuroda, left." Arashi turned, putting his helmet on. Some one hundred and ninety nine students looked back at him, some of whom were concealing smiles with various degrees of success, any of whom could out-fight him one on one. He wondered how many he'd have to fight at once.

Master Ryu went down the line, turning maybe one in five people around at equal intervals. He stopped two intervals before Arashi's end – leaving nine people still facing him. Arashi took a little heart in surveying them – three of them were only slightly better than him, and most of them didn't bother to bully him, most of the time. _That is a strange thing to take comfort in._

_I will be so glad when I never have to do this again._

"BEGIN!"

Arashi never considered himself a strong fighter, and it showed. He barely had time to get his guard up, let alone block the four blows that fell at him in the first second alone. For a minute or so, he danced, blocked, parried, dodged and otherwise tried not to get hit, leading his opponents like a comet's trail across the dojo. Alas, training in an enclosed space meant that tactic wouldn't work indefinitely.

The _smack_ as he hit the wall disoriented Arashi long enough for a sword stroke to pierce his guard, and where there was one, there were many. In the blink of an eye, his sword went clattering to the ground. Arashi expected that his opponents would lay off long enough for him to pick it back up, but as he dived for it another swing caught him in the back. He crashed to the floor, suddenly surrounded by a half dozen students that proceeded to hack away at him as he curled up on the floor. They weren't actually going to kill him – he was wearing enough padding that they probably couldn't if they tried – but they struck for Arashi's head, shoulders, knees, elbows, and groin. If he didn't do something, and soon, then he was likely looking at a lengthy recovery period.

There was a sudden jolting sensation, and Arashi blinked. Suddenly, he was standing back on the island he'd dreamt about. The rain was still hammering down, worse than ever, but he didn't feel cold. The wind howled, but it made him feel at home. Then he felt someone poke him.

He took a step back in surprise. There was no-one in front of him that he could see, but he had distinctly felt a poke in the chest. In fact, that area was –

He glanced down. His kendo kit had gone, replaced by a standard shinigami uniform. The two folds of fabric, cut lower than usual, formed a V-shape that just revealed his sternum. Shining like a candle flame was a drawing, a simple tattoo on his chest. Arashi stared in shock as the light faded, leaving behind a small black circle which faded away as well after a moment. He was still staring down when he heard a voice in his ear – a whisper, but clearly heard.

"Gentei Kaijo."

There was another jolt, and Arashi felt himself snap back to reality. In a surge of energy he leapt to his feet, blindly grabbing for his blade. The sword in his hands felt odd, heavier and colder, but Arashi barely noticed as he started swinging. In seconds, he had cleared a wide space around him. His helmet had taken a few hard hits, restricting his vision, but he sensed – surprisingly clearly – the circle his opponents had formed. Three faced him at the front, and there were two to each side.

_So where are the other two?_ It took Arashi a moment to detect them – and when he did, he nearly dropped his sword is surprise. Both of them lay on the floor, clutching their sides. One was bleeding through his armour. It was only then that his rapidly recovering senses noticed his wooden shinai was still lying on the floor.

He drew back slightly as he focused on his blade. A two-foot wakizashi made of gleaming silver steel. As Arashi twitched the blade, the light from the dojo's windows reflected off subtle blue highlights. Somehow, this sword felt _right_ in a way that the shinai hadn't.

Arashi refocused on his opponents, who were all staring at the sword in confusion. One, more confident or more stupid than the others, swung at Arashi's head. In one swift motion, the new blade leapt upwards almost of its own accord, Arashi's hand only incidentally following. In the stunned silence that was rapidly enveloping the dojo, the top half of the attacking sword clattered to the floor.

"HALT!" Master Ryu's unnecessary command echoed around the hall. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" All eyes that were not on Arashi turned to him. Before he could even frame a reply – starting with a denial of all knowledge, of course – Arashi felt Ryu's cold reishi hammer into him like a flow of icy water.

Almost without thinking, Arashi started to fight it. Normally, a reishi disruption could be fought off by flaring one's natural reishi in response. A student, of course, had so much less reishi available than an experienced master that Arashi normally couldn't fight it off.

The expanding wave of reishi that flew off him knocked several students to their knees. Several started to choke and stagger backwards. Ryu's eyes widened in shock. Arashi watched as, in almost slow motion, Ryu's lips peeled backwards to reveal a toothy grimace. The wave of coldness that enveloped him seemed almost feeble – until Ryu drew his sword. The longsword Ryu carried was familiar to all his students as a piece of his apparel; he never failed to wear it to a training session. This was the first time any of them had ever seen him draw it, however.

"Manifesting a sword in a training session, attacking other pupils with both blade and reishi… I told them that you shouldn't be trained, Kuroda. Told them you'd be nothing but trouble." Ryu sneered. "Now I've been vindicated, don't you think?" Without waiting for an answer, he swung his sword at Arashi's head. The blow was snake-swift, and Arashi's reflexes insufficiently fast to block it. It clipped the side of his helmet, instantly coating it in a layer of hoarfrost and knocking him down to the floor, stunning him.

Almost instantly, the kendo master was standing over Arashi, standing on his sword hand to prevent his blocking the downward swing that the kendo master planned, bringing his sword hand above his head. He started to swing down, aiming for the closed eyes of the Rukongai-born student at his feet.

His sword came down to about shoulder height before stopping abruptly. One hundred and ninety nine pairs of eyes slid from Arashi and Ryu's sword to the figure now gripping Ryu's wrist.

"That's probably not necessary, Master Ryu. I don't recall give you permission to draw your sword, let alone attack a student." There was no reproach in the stranger's voice, just disappointment. Ryu's retort died in his throat as he met the man's eyes.

"As you say, Captain General."

The stranger's eyes glittered in amusement. "Time for you to leave," he said as he released Ryu's arm. The gaunt man sheathed his sword, almost tripping up with his haste to get out of the hall. "Class, you are dismissed. Enjoy your afternoon off."

The stunned class seemed to shake itself, a collective throwing-off of the stunned torpor that lead to them quickly following their rapidly-fleeing kendo master from the dojo.

The Captain-General's smile faded as he knelt by Arashi, taking his battered helmet off and put a hand to his forehead. After a moment, the boy's eyes flickered open and he groaned in pain.

"Good to see you're awake already. That was quite a knock you took."

Arashi blinked, and pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Sensei? What happened? Where did everyone go?"

Haruto sighed. "I made a mistake. Put you in the wrong class. Obviously, this is the wrong environment for your training."

"Uuuhh…" Arashi was speechless. Even in his whirling mind, he knew that joining the Gotei Thirteen required you to graduate from the Spirit Academy – which in turn required you to pass a Kendo course, and this was the course he'd been entered on.

"Starting as soon as you're recovered, I'll get you a proper Kendo master." Haruto grimaced. "Much as it pains me to leave Ryu in a position of trust, after that display, he'll have to wait. Perhaps Hibiki can spare the time to train you."

Arashi's jaw dropped, and he slumped backwards, the edges of his vision growing a little dark. Hibiki Daishi was one of Sensei Haruto's friends, a relaxed young man with a refined taste in music. Arashi had seen him a few times, met him even, when he came to dinner at Haruto's house. He'd always been overawed, which was strange. He was the uchi-deshi of the Captain General, and he still got intimidated by the mere presence of other Captains, like Hibiki.

"Regardless, we should be going as well." Haruto stood up, dusting his hands off. "Come on, Arashi." He turned towards the exit, leaving his apprentice to scramble to his feet behind him.


End file.
